


got a curse we cannot lift

by copperiisulfate



Category: K (Anime), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mikoto is the new alpha, Reisi grows his own wolfsbane, and Saruhiko and Misaki always happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	got a curse we cannot lift

**Author's Note:**

> Some mentions of characters from the novels only (Kagutsu, Kusuhara, etc); violence; arson; minor character deaths. 
> 
> Chesra/colorpsychedelic is a terrible enabler :)

The first full moon after the fire is, unsurprisingly, the worst.

Chitose and Tatara mark the perimeter of the charred cottage with mountain ash. Meanwhile, it takes Dewa and Kamamoto to hold the alpha down while Izumo grins, bitter and weary, mumbles an apologetic, “Not my kink either,” and wraps the chains around Mikoto’s torso and arms and legs thrice over, weaving them through the frame of the bed.

It’s done quick because they still have two new ones on their hands, Akagi and Eric still finding their footing, led to abandoned underground train-cars by Fujishima and Bandou. They’re probably going to need at least one more for damage control and he’s thinking of sending Kamamoto over before they close the circle outside.

Izumo knows he should be with them and Mikoto would have wanted that but he figures, at the moment, a rabid alpha on the loose is probably a much more pressing risk.

 

***

 

He lights up a cigarette outside Mikoto’s room, used to scold Mikoto for smoking indoors but it’s funny how a fire itself has a way of turning a place into less of a fire hazard than it used to be. Parts of the roof are missing now so there’s enough ventilation _or whatever the hell._

“Hey,” Tatara cuts into his thoughts, greets him with a smile, that trademark reassurance. He wipes the ash on the side of his khakis before settling down next to Izumo on the floor. “It’s gonna be fine.”

(It’s also funny how that should have gone stale by now but, by some wonder, still hasn’t and still has the power to make Izumo smile.)

“And how are you managing?” Izumo asks, because he knows the faces Tatara puts on for the world, hates that he has inadvertently played some part in teaching him, just as he knows better than anyone what Tatara’s feeling and just how difficult it is to watch and be able to do nothing as Mikoto loses his mind and thrashes away for hours.

There’s that smile again but it’s more brittle this time. “You _know_ …” and he says it like he might be going somewhere with it but he doesn’t know where.

Izumo takes his hand. “Yeah, I do.”

From here on in, it’s waiting time.

 

***

 

If the weeks after the fire had been spent trying to make this place bearable, as close to livable as possible—which doesn’t say much since Mikoto hardly needed much more than a spot to sleep to survive—the day after the full moon is spent surveying damage.

The chains had been useless, of course, at some point around midnight when the moon was at its highest and even the tarp covering the holes in the ceiling and the light from getting in through the windows couldn’t really keep an alpha at bay. Fortunately, they’d been able to contain him within the property. On the flip side, they were going to need to stock up on more mountain ash.

The worst, thinks Izumo, sweeping up glass from the broken window, is that it was never an issue when they’d all been betas. Back then, Mikoto had managed to let the hours pass and come out of full moons in tact, kept his surroundings in tact, while Kagutsu had led the pack.

They were all perhaps something resembling functional until the fire had hit, killed Mikoto’s sister and her husband, and now their daughter was missing. It wasn’t long before Mikoto had found out that an old and weakening Kagutsu had been behind it and he hadn’t held back, hadn’t expected the consequences of that either. For the most part, Izumo tries to blame it on the wreckage that took place in such a short period of time, figures that being a victim of arson, betrayal, losing your family and subsequently committing murder would be enough to knock off anyone’s stability.

(He doesn’t like to think of the other explanation:

_You’ll soon see that it’s not for everyone_ , were Kagutsu’s last words to Mikoto, like a curse, spilling out through a scornful smile, along with his blood and dying breath.)

And then, there is the question of Anna.

Izumo often wondered if this was why Mikoto was recklessly turning every boy who approached him with loneliness and a hunger for power, forming a search party of sorts. It’s no secret that he won’t stop until he finds her, and it’s not that the new recruits seem miserable exactly. To their credit, they are coping fairly well; it’s more that they have no idea what they signed up for.

(Sometimes, Tatara laughs, warm, calls them _adaptable_ to their faces and _inevitable_ behind their backs.)

What it comes down to is that they all have their parts to play. _Desperate times and desperate measures_ , Mikoto had said to him, once and only once.

Tatara’s been drawing up maps of the city, has the boys asking around schools and neighborhoods. Izumo has connections within the police force, a young officer who was an old friend and the most efficient worker he knew. She promised she’d call him with any updates but it’s been over two weeks now and they’re still running on nothing.

 

***

 

On the other side of town, Kushina Anna stares at her breakfast: scrambled eggs and overcooked toast. The boy with the glasses seems to notice her picking at the crusts before he sighs and cuts them off with a knife.

“Misaki,” he says, exasperated. “You burnt the bread again.”

"Shut up, Saru,” Misaki hollers back from the kitchen worktop. “The toaster’s broken so I made it on the stove. If we'd gone back to _your_ place, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“And I suppose it would be wise for us to hide a child at my brother’s house,” the boy named Saru deadpans, “my brother, who is friends with far too many cops, considering this is a child who is trying to stay away from the cops.”

“Your brother’s hardly ever home," Misaki counters. "My family’s going to be back in another week.”

“Um,” Anna starts, an awareness sinking in that she’s causing trouble somehow. “I can—”

The boy with the glasses—Saru sighs, turns back to her. “Don’t worry. No cops. You ever going to tell us why not? You know they could help you find your—someone you know, maybe.”

Misaki sets two more plates down on the small kitchen table, one in front of Saru and one for himself. He looks at her briefly then looks away, flustered.

Misaki is sincere, wears his emotions on his sleeve, and she likes him. She thinks she likes Saru too, even if he’s harder to read. There’s something about them that’s open and easy to trust, maybe because they’re not much more than kids themselves even if they are strangers. Her mother had always warned her but then Mikoto had always laughed, always said to his sister, her mother, with a hint of pride: _She’s immune. They can’t touch her. Nothing can touch her._

She wasn’t sure before but then, last night, during the full moon, she felt him, _sensed him_ , clear as day. _He’s alive._

And if he’s alive, she knows he’s looking.

“There was a fire,” she says at last.

 

 


End file.
